


Along came a spider

by PeskiPixi



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Real Person Fiction, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, NSFW, Oral Sex, PWP, Secret Agent Tom, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-16
Updated: 2015-11-16
Packaged: 2018-05-01 23:33:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5225444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeskiPixi/pseuds/PeskiPixi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom has been banished to a remote coastal location for his own protection and others, after a dangerous mission. He is lonely, so incredibly lonely, until a beautiful distraction comes strolling down the beach and right into his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is originally a one-shot that became a two-shot... ;-) I had to give Our lovers' a chance for a happy ending, because I'm a sucker for happy endings...

He sat on the weathered porch steps, dark blonde curls dancing about his head in the stormy wind. His eyes were narrowed as he stared out over the metallic greyness of the Atlantic Ocean while a seagull keened its forlorn song to the same indifferent wind. He was alone. And he felt it, as keenly as he has ever done in his life, which was essentially a lonely life. But being here, it got to him. The forced inactivity, the stark arid beauty of the coast, and the quiet. Always, the quiet. It seeped into your bones, making you ache for noise, bustle, conversation. Anything.

His eyes shifted to a point down the beach. Movement, which piqued his interest. No other soul would bother to come here. Not voluntarily anyway. He watched the little dark shape move slowly up the beach, until it resolved into a human shape. Well, I’ll be damned, it is actually a person. Even as his heart leapt, his brain automatically kicked into gear. His eyes darted around, checking his surroundings, his muscles tensed, his right hand unconsciously falling to his right hip. Realising what he was doing, he made an effort to relax. He breathed deeply and crossed his arms over his knees again, still watching the approaching shape. Not everything was a threat. Not everyone needed to be neutralised. He was safe. Nobody knew where he was, or who he was. He was even using his own name, for the first time in years.

The figure on the beach was much closer now. There was something ethereal about the picture. Something soft, otherworldly. He recognised then that the figure approaching him was female. Very female. As she wandered closer, he was able to make out details. She was wearing an old soft pair of jeans, rolled up to her calves, a cozy-looking cableknit sweater, and was carrying a ratty pair of sneakers in her hand. Hair like deep burnished copper gusted about her face and clung to her lips occasionally.

Lifting her eyes, she spotted him where he sat transfixed on the steps, watching her. Changing direction, she came directly towards him, absently pushing her hair back from her face. He watched and waited, taking in the details, a habit formed over years of training and being in the field.

Details could save your life.

His eyes drifted up from her bare feet and strong calves to the soft faded jeans that hugged a very shapely pair of thighs and hips. The sweater looked well-worn and comfy, and covered a small waist and ended in a deep cowl neck. Lifting his eyes further, he looked into her face, and inhaled sharply. Her features were devoid of make-up, and he had very rarely seen such beauty contained in a single face. Her clear grey eyes were wide and candid, under perfectly arched brows, framed by dark lashes and complimented by high cheekbones, stained rosy with the cold wind. Her skin was like porcelain, and the column of her neck was elegant where it vanished in the soft wool of her sweater. But what made his breath hitch was her lips. They looked delicious. Her almost overly plump mouth was curved in a tiny smile at the one corner, and he found himself mesmerized by the shape of it. He wanted to taste it, trace the texture of it with his own.

Shaking off the trance he was in, he got up and dusted off his pants, extending a hand to her with a smile of greeting.

“Hi. I’m Tom. What brings you way out here? I rarely see another human being this far from town.”

Her smile widened, showing of her perfect white teeth.

“Hi, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you. I’m Scarlett. I was just walking, and I saw your house. I’ve never come this far, I didn’t know it was here. It’s beautiful.”

Turning to glance at the old rambling Cape Cod style house over his shoulder, Tom shrugged.

“I suppose. It’s home, for now. Just lonely.”

He felt himself flush slightly at his admission. What made him say that? She’s probably going to think he’s some pathetic attention-seeking prat. He peeked from under his lashes to see what her reactions were, and was surprised to see her also coyly looking down. She gave a breathy embarrassed chuckle.

“Truth be told, I know exactly what you mean. I love this place, the beauty, and the quiet, but sometimes the remoteness gets to me.” She was quiet for a few seconds, then looked him in the eye with a small smile. “I get lonely too.”

They stood together in awkward silence for a few moments, each busy with their own thoughts. Tom was mentally chastising himself for coming off as a complete idiot. Also, he didn’t quite know what to do with her now. He went for the obvious and very British solution to all social conundrums.

“Would you like a cup of tea?” He asked, turning towards the house.

“I shouldn’t… I should be getting back…” She replied, still looking shy and uncomfortable.

Dammit Tom, don’t mess it up! He smiled his most charming 1000 watt smile, wielding it like the deadly weapon he knew it was.

“Come on, a quick one, to warm you up, and we can chat some more about the loneliness that seems to be plaguing both of us.” He watched her expectantly, his eyebrows drawn together, putting on his best puppy face. With a laugh and a nod, she agreed, nervously twirling a crimson curl around her finger.

“Okay. But a quick one. And just because you seem to be completely irresistible when you want something.”

He laughed, and rubbed his hands together.

“Ehehehe, great. I’ll just…” He pointed towards the house, as if she wouldn’t understand the relationship between house and kettle. “I’ll just put the kettle on. And stuff.”

He turned and fled, not waiting for Scarlett to follow. Getting to the kitchen, he leant against the wall and centred himself. He’s been alone too long. He’s been out of the game, out of the action too long. He’s letting her affect him too much. Slowly breathing in and out a few times, he finally felt more in control again. Flipping on the kettle, he moved back to the front room, and found Scarlett sitting on the couch, her knees together and her hands folded, looking a bit lost.

Giving her an easy smile, he sat across from her, stretching his long legs out in front of him so that his feet almost met hers.

“Tea’s coming up.” He commented.

“Thanks.” She said with a small smile. “So, how did you end up here?”

Tom thought for a moment, giving the impression that he’s lost in thought, but in reality thinking fast. How much can he tell her? Could he trust her? Who was she, really?

“This used to be my parents’ place, and I inherited it. I just couldn’t make myself get rid of it. I’m a writer. More often than not, the solitude suits me, so, here I am.”

After making the tea, their conversation flowed more easily. They talked about themselves, books, movies and plays. They laughed and flirted, and as the second round of teacups were left empty, they felt like old friends, just hanging out. It made Tom feel warm and a second-hand kind of happy, and the loneliness fled. But it left a ghost of a shadow of grief. He knew that he could never be truthful with her. He knew that he was pretending. Not pretending that he was someone else, but pretending that he was normal. That his life, his circumstances were normal. And that shadow intruded on this precious moment rudely, consuming the joy.

As Scarlett finally got up to leave, he walked her to the door. He didn’t want her to go. He felt a hollow kind of anxiousness at the thought of losing her, of never seeing her again. They were back on the porch, the awkwardness suddenly back in full force.

“So, thank you so much for the tea, and the company. I had a really good time.” She stated, looking down and scuffing her sneaker on the weathered porch step.

“You are most welcome, and I’m the one that should be thanking you for such excellent company.” He smiled. She turned, and made her way down the steps.

“Scarlett!”

Her name left his lips before he could stop it. She turned, looking at him questioningly.

“Yes Tom?”

He hesitated.

“Have dinner with me tomorrow night? You can come here, if you don’t mind. I can cook. I’m no Ramsay, but I can help myself in the kitchen. Please?” He shut his mouth with a snap, realising that he was rambling.

She grinned, a big, toothy, pleased grin.

“I would love nothing more. I’ll see you at seven tomorrow?”

He nodded and smiled, feeling the happiness bubble up in his chest. He’s going to see her again.

————

The knock on the door was soft but clear, and it startled him. Taking a final look around the kitchen and living area, he wiped his hands on a dishrag and went to answer the door. He opened, already wearing a big grin, and there she was. The smile drained from his face, and it felt like all the blood went with it. He stood and stared, open mouthed.

She stood in the half light of sunset, wearing a short black dress, heels and a wide smile. She was also wearing make-up this time around, and the effect was breath-taking. Her eyes were smoky and wide, even more than it naturally was. A slight blush coloured her cheeks and her lips were full and slashed red with carmine. Her hair was up, exposing her ivory neck to his roving eyes. Her legs exposed under the dress were every bit as shapely as he suspected. And then some.

“Hi.” She smiled.

His throat worked for a second and his Adams-apple bobbed before he was able to get a word out.

“Umm… Hi.” He cleared his throat and tried again. “Scarlett. Hi. You look absolutely exquisite.”

She blushed a bit and looked down. “Thank you Tom, you don’t look half bad yourself.”

He glanced down at his fitted blue dress shirt and dark slacks. It was considered neat he supposed, but next to the vision in front of him, he felt like he should have been wearing a tuxedo. Recovering himself slightly he stepped aside and invited her in. She stepped inside, and inhaled deeply.

“O, something smells delicious! What is it?” She asked, her eyes lighting up.

“It’s Pasta al Salmone Affumicato.” The Italian rolled off his tongue easily as he dramatically extended an arm with a dishrag draped over it.

“Well it sounds oh so impressive, and smells unbelievable! I can’t wait, I’m famished!” She chuckled as she accepted the glass of wine Tom offered her.

“Ahhh Dolce Signora, I assure you that dinner will be served shorty!” He carried on in an atrocious Italian accent, making her laugh even louder.

In a short while the table was set and dinner was served. They chatted easily through the meal, recounting childhood stories and embarrassing situations that had them both howling with laughter. As one such laughing fit gradually came to an end, Tom found himself staring at the woman across from him. She was just calming down, still a bit flushed, and carefully touching the corners of her eyes where tears of mirth had gathered. Her plump red lips were stretched in a smile, and she was beautiful. Moving to take her hand across the table, Tom knocked over a wine glass, and it went tumbling off the edge, to a certain messy death on the floor. Scarlett’s hand shot out with lightning speed and caught the fragile goblet about 5 inches off the floor. They both froze, Scarlett still bent awkwardly to one side, and Tom staring at her in awe.

“Wow, thanks, that was amazing!” He smiled, jumping up to get a rag to mop up the spilled wine.

“Ha, lucky shot.” She said, placing the glass on the table and also getting up.

Working together, they soon had the table cleared, the tablecloth soaking and the dishes stacked. Tom switched on the entertainment system, and flipped through cd’s until he found one that apparently pleased him. Turning, he approached her where she stood uncertainly in the middle of the living room. He took her hand, lifting it to his lips and placing his lips on the soft skin of her knuckles.

“Dance with me?” He said simply, and pulled her against his chest. Her head barely came up to his chin, and he buried his nose in her hair, chastely putting his hand on her lower back. She smelled delicious, of flowers and vanilla and spice.

She rested her head against the wall of his chest, and snaked her arms around his neck, moving her body closer to his until her breasts pushed against his front. He was rubbing little circles with his fingers on her back, and he felt a small shudder pass through her. Then, she lifted her face and looked into his eyes. Her eyes looked vulnerable and warm as she stared up to him, and he felt himself falling, drowning. He was caught, well and truly, he thought, as he lowered his lips to hers. He kissed her softly, tenderly, and those lips were all he expected them to be, and more. She kissed him back, wiggling her fingers into the short hair at the back of his neck, her full lips moving against his, making his heartbeat speed up and other things happen lower down in his body. Her soft wet tongue snaked out, seeking entrance, running along his lower lip insistently. He groaned and opened his mouth, their tongues dancing together, deepening the kiss. He could feel her become soft and pliant under his hands, his own heat rising. Snaking a hand up her side, he cupped her breast in his hand, softly running a thumb over the hard bud covered by the dress. She groaned wantonly into his mouth, and ran a hand down his back, grabbing his ass with firm pressure, pulling him against her. He gasped loudly when his engorging cock connected with her stomach, and he was sure she could feel the state he was in.

Breaking the kiss, Scarlett smiled up at him, coquettishly lowering her lashes and giving him a scorching look. Placing her palms flat on his chest, she walked him backwards until his legs connected with the couch, and he plopped down, his hands at his sides, completely at her mercy. The look in her eyes left no room for misunderstanding as to what her plans were, and God did he wish he was right. Still holding his gaze, she lowered herself to floor, kneeling between his spread thighs, her hands dragging across his chest and stomach, and lower. His stomach muscles fluttered as she dragged her fingers lightly over the very obvious bulge underneath his fly. He uttered a low moan as she grabbed his shaft through the material, squeezing, stroking. She licked her lips and started working on his belt, her deft fingers making short work of it, and continuing to his button and fly. His heart thundered in his chest as he looked down at the vision between his thighs. He was left breathless by her beauty, and the undiluted sex pouring from her. She was wanton, a goddess. Finally, she succeeded in freeing him from the constraints of his pants, and his throbbing cock stood tall, aching for her.

“Oh, naughty Thomas, no underwear?” She teased, as she grabbed the base of his cock and started stroking slowly upward.

Tom whimpered, his eyes fluttering closed.

“Look at me Thomas.” She said. “What do you want me to do?”

He let out a wobbly breath. “Please… “

“Please what, Thomas? What do you want?” she asked again, rubbing a thumb over his head, spreading the moisture there.

“Please… I want your mouth.” He gasped.

“See, that wasn’t so hard.” She said, and lowered her face towards his straining erection.

Her mouth engulfed his head, and the heat and wetness of her mouth was almost his undoing. He threw his head back and groaned, fisting his hands at his sides to prevent him from grabbing her head. She teased him slowly, licking up the underside of his member with the flat of her tongue, her hands massaging his balls. She repeated the action, and then sucked him into her wet heat again, sucking hard and moaning deep in her throat. His breathing was erratic and laboured as she continued to suck him, bobbing her head up and down, opening her throat to let as much of him in as possible. He could feel his cockhead hitting the back of her throat as her tongue played little patterns over his shaft. She was driving him mad. Pushing her back by her shoulders, and making her release him with a wet pop, he sat up straighter.

“Scarlett stop. I can’t take much more…” His voice wavered with restraint, and he was breathing hard. “Please, I want to make love to you. Come to bed with me.”

She pouted a little, but then took his hand and followed him towards the bedroom. In the bedroom, he spun her around and kissed her neck, his fingers going to the fastenings of her dress. Lowering the zipper slowly, he continued planting hot wet kisses on her neck and shoulders. Finally, the dress fell to the floor, pooling at her feet. She was braless and wearing a red and black satin thong. He took a step back and let his eyes roam over her body. She was perfect. Toned, muscled and shapely, all at the same time. He knew that he was not going to last long, and he impatiently led her toward the bed, and lay her down on her back. Shucking his remaining clothing, he crawled towards her, kissing every inch of satin skin he passed. He grabbed the thong and shimmied it impatiently down her legs. Finally, he covered her body with his, snaking his hand down between them to find her centre. He stroked his fingers over her pussy, meeting her silky wetness.

“O darling, already so wet for me? “ He enquired with a raised eyebrow.

It was her turn to be breathless, to be needy. Her head twisted from side to side as he kept stroking her sopping wet cunt, playing over her clit and making her jump and quake and moan.

“Look at me darling.” He commanded, and she turned her head to face him. He extracted his fingers from her pussy, brought them to his mouth and tasted her. His eyes slid closed as her flavour hit his tongue, she was delicious. Sweet and salty and musky, he enjoyed every drop, licking his fingers clean leisurely as she watched him, captivated.

Still watching her face, staring into her eyes, he lined up and sank into her slowly but insistently. He groaned loudly, his mouth hanging slack at the tight heat of her enveloping him. Her eyes widened as he entered her, her plush lips forming a perfect O, her breathing shallow and fast. He pulled out and entered her again, relishing the feeling of her muscles trembling around his shaft. He set a slow pace, fucking her deeply, unhurriedly, adoring the feeling of her hotness, her hands roaming over his shoulders and back, her lips on his neck. Slowly, he started picking up the pace, driving into her, his hip bones connecting with hers. He grabbed one calf and hitched her leg around his waist, changing the angle, making her keen and whimper.

He dropped his hand to where they were connected and found her swollen clit, his fingers dancing over it, tapping and rubbing until she begged incoherently. He continued slamming into her, bottoming out every thrust, driving her towards her peak mercilessly. Abruptly, her eyes snapped shut, and he could feel the beginnings of her orgasm as she clenched around him. She had stopped breathing for a moment, her eyes tightly closed and her mouth open, panting. She threw her head back and shouted as her cunt clenched down hard around him, the muscles spasming rhythmically as her body shook. She milked him for all she was worth, and he felt himself falling over the edge. His back arched as he lost all control over his hips, snapping forward in an erratic rhythm, slamming into her cunt over and over and over again, until he felt his balls contract and he shot his seed into her heat and warmth. He stroked on, riding out the last waves of his orgasm while Scarlett continued to whimper underneath him.

Finally, he rolled off her and pulled her body close to his, spooning her from behind and nuzzling his nose into her neck. They lay there, quiet and sated, not talking. He was so comfortable, warm and fuzzy with post-orgasmic bliss. He felt himself drifting off to sleep as he listened to her breathing even out. He smiled a quiet smile and gave in to the irresistible pull of sleep.

———-

Tom surfaced slowly from a deep sleep, and lay very still as his brain came awake. He didn’t move, keeping his eyes closed and his face slack as he listened. Something had woken him, a stealthy noise somewhere in the room. He opened his one eye a tiny bit, peeping at what he could see from his position. What he saw made him sit up and rub the sleep from his eyes. Scarlett was seated in an old wingback chair in the corner of his room, fully dressed, her hair loose and falling over her one shoulder. She was smoking a cigarette, her head turned, staring off into space, instead of looking at him. He sat up, wrapping the sheet around his naked hips, and sat down on the edge of the bed.

“So…” He said. “It’s time for honesty, isn’t it?”

She carried on staring out the window, and to his surprise, he saw a single tear making its way down her cheek. She took another deep drag and ejected a stream of blue smoke towards the ceiling, and leaving her gaze to settle there.

“What do you know?” She asked without looking at him, her voice hollow. He could see a slight tremble in the hand that was holding the cigarette.

He exhaled and rubbed both hands vigorously across his face, distorting his features for a second before he looked up at her.

“I know who you are, and what you do. I know you have extremely fast reflexes, and that you shoot a gun on a regular basis. I know you have hand-to-hand combat training, and that you are a very good actress. This I know from observation. Your build and muscle structure, the way you move. The way you look at things, and then of course the way you caught that glass last night. Instinctively, without thinking.”

He stopped talking and watched her. She had still not looked directly at him. With his heart heavy in his chest, he carried on.

“I also know who you are. I am not without resources. Yesterday after you left, I did some research and contacted my agency. They confirmed your identity from my description, and warned me to be extremely careful, and to act with extreme prejudice should I feel that me person or my identity be in danger. I also suspect why you were sent here. The only remaining question is why?”

She was looking down now, her hair hiding her features from his gaze.

“Why, Ms. Romanoff? Why did you fail to complete your mission?”

Her head snapped around at the mention of her real name. He could see that he had hit a nerve. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, and her lips were slightly parted.

“Tom…. I….” Her breath hitched. “I’m sorry. I’ve got red in my ledger, and I’d like to wipe it out. I had no other choice.”

The silence between them stretched. Tom got up and walked to a dresser, took out a pair of jeans and dragged them on, his back to her. At that moment, he heard a very distinctive snick behind him. It is the kind of sound that someone in his line of work can identify immediately. It made his blood run cold and the adrenalin flood through his veins. Still facing away from her, he raised his hands, palms open, and turned around. She was still in the chair, but now facing him, and holding a CZ-75 9mm pistol, pointing straight at his naked chest. Her eyes were still wet, but her hands were steady.

“What makes you think I failed to complete my mission?” She asked, her voice clipped, somehow different.

“Natasha…” he said, lowering his hands slightly and taking another step towards her.

“Don’t call me that!” She almost screamed. “I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry…” She stated softly, almost to herself, as another tear tracked down her cheek. “I had no choice.”

Tom sighed, and dropped his hands. He hung his head and dragged a hand through his dishevelled blonde curls. Looking up at her, he felt empty. Alone. Lonely, like before. He smiled at her sadly. He had really enjoyed her company. If things had been different…

“No, Natasha, I am the one that is sorry. Because the fact is, you have failed to complete your mission. The house is surrounded. They’re here, Ms. Romanoff, they’ve been here all along and they are taking you in.”

As if by some prior planning, Tom heard the front door slam open just as he uttered the last sentence. Heavy boot steps swarmed down the hallway, accompanied by shouted commands and the rattle and jingle of gear. Natasha turned her head, momentarily distracted, and he dived for her, easily wrestling the pistol from her grip. She fought, hard, he was surprised at her strength, and is if wasn’t for his fellow agents that came bursting into the room just then she might have even got the better of him. One of the agents grabbed her and cuffed her hands behind her back. All the while, she held his gaze, looking him straight in the eye. He wasn’t sure what he expected to see there. Hurt? Anger? A lust for revenge? But none of that was there. All he saw was regret as they frogmarched the most amazing woman he has ever met out of his bedroom.

Utterly exhausted, Tom sat down on the edge of the bed and punched a number on his phone.

“Yes. They have her. Remember our deal…. I’ll phone you tomorrow from a secure line…. Yes, it’s still planned for in two weeks’ time….. No, but I’ll find out where, it can’t be that hard…. Okay. We’ll discuss it tomorrow.”

With that, he clicked off the phone and fell back on the bed.

There’s always a way to get what you want. Especially if what you want happens to be a very beautiful woman.

~END~


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part two of Along came a spider.

Natasha stared out the window, watching the drab arid landscape slide past. But her eyes were unfocused, looking inward rather than the world around her. Today, she was being moved to “a place of safety”. She realised that it was MI6 code for “an institution that might be able to hold her”. The thought made her grin a little. She knew the chances of her escaping were slim. But she never gave up hope. She had a score to settle. Unfinished business.

Suddenly, the drone of the large engine changed, and the big SUV started to slow. Natasha turned her head, and looked at the driver. She could only see his profile, and he was muttering into his comm mic rapidly. She craned her head, trying to see out the windscreen, and saw a similar SUV parked on the side of the road a ways ahead of them. She frowned, confused. Not that her keepers told their prisoners everything, but this seemed irregular, and subconsciously, her body and brain responded. She was ready for anything.

Gradually, the car came to a standstill behind the other, and a man moved towards them. He was wearing a suit and incongruously, a baseball cap and sunglasses, obscuring his features. He bent at the window and spoke quietly to the driver. Natasha strained to hear, but couldn’t make out much except disjointed words like “transfer”, “prisoner”, “homeland security” and “strategy”. She sat quietly, alert, waiting. Eventually, her driver nodded and got out of the car, slamming the door and moving around to her side of the vehicle. Opening the door, he motioned for her to get out, keeping his handgun trained on her at all times. Resigned, Natasha got out and assumed the position, lifting her cuffed hands and resting them on the roof of the vehicle, her back turned to the agent and her legs spread. She waited. She knew that they were extra alert with her, and it gave her small pleasure to know that her reputation had preceded her like this. She heard movement behind her, and then, darkness. A black sack of rough cloth had been put over her head. She rolled her eyes.

“Really guys? Aren’t we past the whole bag-over-the-head point?” No one answered, and Natasha decided to just go with it for the moment, as she was grabbed from behind and frogmarched forward, towards the other vehicle, she presumed. Her assumption was confirmed when a car door opened and she was helped into the back of the car.

As the car droned on, Natasha tried to concentrate her senses. She could see very little, just vague suggestions of light and dark through the hood. She could feel the cool leather against her body and smell the dusty material of the hood. And something else. Something almost familiar. She inhaled deeply, and the smell danced around the edges of her memory, but she couldn’t place it. She listened hard, but heard only the hum of the tires and the quiet purr of the car. At one point, she heard the quiet rumble of the drivers’ voice, but she couldn’t discern any words.

Hours past, and Natasha dozed, slipping in and out of strange dreams about a man with chiselled features and piercing grey eyes. Of soft, large long-fingered hands and a lush rich baritone voice whispering in her ear. She became instantly alert when the surface of the road changed, and the SUV rocked along on what was clearly a rough gravel road. Finally, they stopped and the engine fell silent. Again, Natasha strained her ears, but heard only an almost deafening silence. No traffic, no voices, nothing. Listening even more closely, she became aware of the sounds of birds and the rustling of trees. She heard the front door of the vehicle open, and moments later, she was helped out and steered forward, enjoying stretching her legs and the sun kissing her face. She walked carefully, not being able to see. But the hands on her upper arms were sure. Going up some steps, they moved into shade, and the warmth of the sun was gone. Hearing a key in a lock, Natasha spoke up.

“Where are we?” Silence greeted her. “Hello? I said where am I?”

She let it drop when she was steered forward again, into a building through the door that had just been unlocked. The floor sounded like wood, and there was a slightly musty closed-up smell. If only she could see. She was getting really tired of this. She was stopped, and the person behind her moved around to stand in front of her. Without warning, the hood was grabbed and pulled off her head. Natasha blinked in the sudden light, and gradually her sight returned to normal. In front of her stood a man. He stood quietly, his face passive and his arms at his sides. He was wearing a dark blue suit with a crisp white shirt and a dark tie. His blonde curls were neatly slicked back and he was clean-shaven. His eyes were a penetrating grey, and he was watching her cautiously and pleadingly at the same time.

Natasha drew a long quiet breath through her nose. She survived in her world because she was prepared. For anything. And even if she wasn’t, she could think on her feet, evaluate and react in a split-second. She wasn’t prepared for this.

Agent Thomas Hiddleston.

Without a word, she held out her cuffed wrists. Tom took a key out of his pocket and unlocked the cuffs, tossing them on a nearby chair. They had still not spoken a word. Natasha massaged her sore wrists while looking him over. He looked delicious. She hated him. Still without saying a word, she drew back and slapped him. The blow landed over one sharp cheekbone, and his head jerked with the force of it. He had made no attempt to deflect the blow. He lifted his head and absently rubbed over the red mark quickly blooming on his cheek. Then he smiled. That almost feline, smug, knowing smile. God she really really hated him right now.

“Hello Natasha.” He commented levelly.

“Fuck you Tom.” She shot back, just as calmly.

“Any other violent reactions you want to get out of your system? He smiled. Natasha bristled at his nonchalance.

“You sold me out you bastard. You strung me along and gave me up.” She spat, and she could feel the heat in her cheeks. She was losing control. He was getting to her.

“You were sent to kill me, remember? I was your mark, just another job.” He shot back, also visibly getting angry.

“You let them take me! You arranged it! For two months I sat in that fucking hole, wondering what had happened to me, how the fuck I could lose focus like I did. You did that to me.” Angry tears stood in her eyes, and she could hear a shrill edge to her own voice.

His eyes widened, and he looked at her in silence for long moments. She was shaking with anger, and she stared back at him defiantly.

“You’re not angry because you were apprehended, or because I had a part in it.” He said. “You are angry because you didn’t finish the job. Because you got distracted.” He huffed out an incredulous laugh. “It’s your pride that’s hurt. You did what any agent fears.” He took a step closer to her, and she watched him warily, but didn’t make a move.

“You fell for the mark.” He said quietly, bringing up a hand and stroking a crooked finger down her cheek reverently. Natasha looked down, avoiding his eyes.

“You went in to do the job,” he continued, dragging the finger softly back up, “and you fell in… lust.” She glanced up at him through her lashes. “You lost focus, and you can’t forgive yourself.” He finished, and pushed his fingers into her hair, tilting her head up with a thumb under her jaw.

Natasha looked into his eyes, and feared the worst. She saw it there. And it frightened her to death. She could do anything, face anything and anyone. She was the best agent, male or female, that her agency had ever had. But this. She didn’t know how to handle this. She felt like a lost little girl, and what frightened her the most, was that she wanted to give in. She wanted to be that lost little girl, and she wanted him to look after her. But she didn’t know how.

“You don’t know me.” She hissed, putting as much venom into the statement as she could muster. He jerked back as if she had slapped him again, and she grabbed the chance to turn away and get some space between them. But he followed her and grabbed her arm.

“Yes, I do.” He said forcefully. “I know that you work too hard and too often. I know that you have no family or friends, and that your home looks like a hotel room because you’re never there.” He paused, dropping his eyes and looking back up at her. “I know that you are lonely.” He gave her a small smile. “I know you, Natasha Romanoff. And I know these things, because I’m like you.” He chuckled bitterly. “Two peas in a pod, we are.”

She was still turned away from him, refusing to turn and face him.

“So, as your gaoler, I suppose I should make sure you don’t escape again.” He said, stepping closer, into her space, pressing his body to hers as his arm encircled her waist. He dipped his head and nuzzled into her hair as his fingers danced over her taught stomach.

“Sex is not going to make this go away, Tom.” She said, but still didn’t move to stop him. “You’re not going to fuck my disappointment away.”

Despite her harsh words, Natasha’s head tilted back involuntarily. Her brain was telling her not to let him do this, but her body was betraying her.

“You see Natasha, the thing is…” he murmured into her hair, “You’re not disappointed in me, are you?” he was interspersing his word with warm wet kisses up her neck. “The thing is, you’re disappointed in yourself. Angry at yourself.” His other arm was around her waist now, and he was holding her tightly, kissing her neck and playing his warm wet tongue around the shell of her ear. Natasha knew she was losing the battle.

“We need to talk Tom.” She tried again, sounding slightly breathless even to her own ears.

“We can talk later.” He said, and turned her around, claiming her mouth.

Natasha melted into the kiss, her body finally overriding any rational thought processes. Her last thought was that this, this, this is what made this man so dangerous to her. He made her stop thinking, forget who she was. His lips played over hers, claiming her, nibbling on her full bottom lip and darting out his tongue, seeking entrance. Natasha’s arms creeped up and around his neck, her fingers carding through the curls, messing them up. She didn’t think she had ever in her life been kissed this way. He was kissing her as if his life depended on it, on her. His large competent hands roamed up and down her back, covering every inch of skin. He was overriding her senses, filing up all the space around her, so she could hardly breathe. She was breathing him in, his essence, his smell, his passion leaching into her every orifice, claiming her, leaving her no choice but to give in.

Softly, he broke the kiss, and leaned back, his breath coming fast as he looked into her eyes. “You think we could continue this in the bedroom?”

Natasha knew she had no defence. She was limp with desire, she could feel her whole body tingling, ready, needy. She nodded, not trusting her voice. He kissed her again once, and said “Meet you there…”

She nodded again, and turned in search of the bedroom. It was a small cottage, and the options were limited, so she found it quite quickly. It was a stunning room. Quaint. There was a large copper four-poster in the middle of the floor, covered in soft-looking embroidered white bedding and a large nest of pillows. There was a dresser with a basin and jug on top, decorated in an old rose pattern. The late-afternoon sun slanted through the window, giving everything a golden edge. It looked like a bedroom out of a fairy-tale. Natasha made her way into the en suite bathroom, and decided to have a very quick wash. She stared at herself in the mirror, and shook her head at the way the orange prison fatigues clashed horribly with her deep red hair. After washing out her mouth, splashing water on her face and dragging a comb she found through her hair, she returned to the bedroom just as Tom walked in the door.

“Hey. Brought us something to drink. Chardonnay okay?” She nodded, and took the glass from him. He put the glass of Scotch in his other hand down on the bedside table, and turned to her, pulling her in for another scorching kiss, taking her breath away. She could taste the Scotch on his tongue as he invaded her mouth, and her knees wobbled. Slowly, softly, he dragged his hands down her arms, until he could take her wrists in one hand, still kissing her passionately. Natasha felt something cold and hard against her wrist, and the next moment, heard the ratchet sound of the cuffs closing. She broke the kiss and looked up at him.

“What are you doing?” she asked him warily. She was confused and it felt like she was on an emotional rollercoaster. Did he betray her again?

“He grinned down at her, looking extremely pleased with himself. “Relax darling” he whispered in her ear. Pulling back, he looked at her, his eyes twinkling. “I’m just securing my prisoner.” He said, shooting for innocent and serious and failing miserably.

Catching on, Natasha lifted her eyebrows, her mouth curling into a smile. “O really?” she asked, as he walked her backwards to the bed, and she let him.

“Yup.” He said, popping the p and winking at her. He pushed her down on the bed and scooted her up until her back was resting against the mountain of pillows. He lifted her arms and hooked the cuffs over the headboard, stroking her arms all the way down again. “Comfortable? He asked, and she nodded, biting her lip. “Safeword?” He asked.

Thinking a moment, she said “Plum” and he nodded, satisfied. Putting his hand into his pocket, he removed his tie and bound it over her eyes. The sudden darkness made her breath speed up, but Tom stroked a hand down her face and neck, calming her like a skittish colt.

Natasha lay still, concentrating the rest of her senses and feeling a sense of déjà vu to when she was in the car with a hood over her head. She felt his fingers at the buttons of her top, opening them one by one, following their path with his lips, kissing and licking down her breastbone, her stomach and all the way to the elastic waistband of her trousers. His soft fingers wriggled under the waistband, and started sliding them slowly down her legs, placing little lost kisses on her hipbone, her thigh, her knee.

Finally, when she was completely naked, he slowly moved up her body again, kissing and licking and stroking, driving her closer to the edge mercilessly. He had reached her breasts, and took a nipple between his fingers, pinching hard, making her gasp and arch her body off the bed. His hot wet mouth closed over the other one, sucking hard and nipping with his teeth. Natasha mewled out her need and jerked futilely at the cuffs. Suddenly, his touch was gone, and she turned her head trying to figure out where he is, even though she couldn’t see. She heard the clinking of ice against glass off to her right, then a faint thud as the glass was replaced.

Suddenly his mouth was back, sucking a nipple in between ice cold lips. Natasha gasped loudly at the excruciating pleasure, her body arching and her heart thundering in her chest. Mercifully, he released the nipple with a pop, and started travelling down her body again, his cold lips alighting in intricate little paths down her stomach. He paused at her navel, swirling a wet cold tongue in it, making her moan again. She was on the very edge of pleasure, and still he drove her on.

Going even lower, he placed his hands on her thighs and pushed her legs wide softly but insistently. Natasha’s breath hitched as she felt cool breath on her hot throbbing core, and then a soft cold kiss on the inside of her thigh. Then, he was there, dragging a flat wide tongue over her aching dripping cunt, from her glistening opening all the way to her pulsating nub. She screamed her pleasure to the heavens, her body lifting off the mattress. Tom threw an arm across her hips, holding her down, and then started the torture in earnest. He licked and sucked, swirling his agile tongue around her needy clit, and pushing into her, fucking her with his tongue and licking her up and down, not holding anything back. She felt like she was going insane with the sensations, and she knew she was on the edge. Tom brought up a hand and pressed his thumb down on her clit, simultaneously tongue fucking her as deep as he could, and she crashed into her orgasm. It washed over her mercilessly, taking away every pretence, ripping away her mask, leaving her bare and shuddering. She screamed and writhed and gasped as her inner muscles pulsed around his long tongue.

Slowly, she came back down to earth, her breathing evening out to a degree. She blinked as the blindfold was removed, and looked into a pair of soft grey eyes smiling down at her. He kissed her once, deeply, and then unhooked her hands from the headboard and took off the cuffs.

“You okay?” He asked while rubbing her wrists, making sure the blood flow was restored and she was not in pain. She nodded wordlessly. It seemed that this man had her at a continuous loss for words, she mused to herself through the post orgasmic haze. He was still fully dressed, and she decided that it was time to rectify the situation. Her hands went to the buttons of his shirt, and she started working her way down, finally sliding her hands underneath, and feeling his muscles jump and quiver at her touch. Sliding her hands further down, she grazed her fingertips over his tended trousers, making him gasp. Impatient, she made quick work of his trousers, and his thick hard cock sprang free, making her cunt clench in anticipation. He crawled over her, pushing her back against the pillows, and kissed her fiercely, grabbing his cock in one hand and rubbing the hard purple head up and down her slit, teasing her, making her beg in between sloppy wet kisses.

Finally, he sunk into her, slowly, stretching her and filling her. Natasha stopped breathing as her muscles fluttered around his girth. She honestly thought that there was no better feeling in the world. No orgasm, no foreplay, no feeling was better than being filled to the brim with thick hard cock. His cock.

Slowly, he started moving, sliding the length of him all the way in and almost all the way out again, canting his hips, going as deep as he could. He reared up, and extended an arm backwards, crooking his elbow underneath her knee and pulling, opening her up and going oh so deep, slamming into her faster and faster. Natasha stared up at him looming over her, dominating her, fucking her like he wanted to own her forever. She was mesmerized by the sweat that was threatening to drip from his brow, and his eyes boring into her, never losing focus as he made hard and deep love to her. Gradually, she saw his eyes starting to lose focus a bit, glazing over with pleasure, and she knew he was close.

“Jesus Nat… O …GOD…. “ He was gasping in between thrusts. His hips picked up speed until he was slamming into her with a ferocity that made her pussy flutter and she knew she was close again.

“Come for me Tom.” She said, and watched his undoing. His eyes rolled back and slid closed and the tendons in his neck stood out as he threw his head back and pushed his hips hard into her, jerking and roaring her name. Seeing him lose himself in her pushed her over the edge again, and her second orgasm crashed into her, robbing her of breath. 

Gradually, they came back to earth, sweaty and sated and limp. Tom pulled out and collapsed next to her on his back. She turned over and draped a leg over his, putting her head on his chest and listening to his thundering heart gradually returning to normal. They lay there, quiet and content, listening to each other breathe.

Finally, Natasha spoke.

“I thought you forgot me. Before, when… they took me, for a moment I thought that… You would come for me. I held on to that. For weeks. That there was … Something.” She pressed her face into his chest, and his arm tightened around her.

“The plan was to get you out within two weeks. But things didn’t work out.” He sighed heavily. “We had to wait, make sure that we could get a clean getaway.” He was still for a few moments. “I’m sorry, Nat. I’m so sorry we couldn’t get to you earlier. Trust me, I wanted to.” He planted a soft kiss on her hair. “I knew, from the first moment I saw you, that we had… something.” He chuckled quietly. “It sounds ridiculously romantic, doesn’t it?”

Natasha nodded her head and smiled quietly. “It does. And I love it.” She said, stroking a hand absently over his stomach. It was quiet again, a particularly calm and comfortable sort of quiet. Finally, Tom spoke again.

“I’m getting out.” He said quietly, his arm tightening around her again. “I decided it after that night. After I met you. I’m done with the secrets and the lies. The danger, the long hours and the loneliness.” He breathed in deeply through his nose. “I’m going to live here. Raise horses, like my dad. Be free.”

Natasha surprised herself be speaking, and by what came out of her mouth.

“Me too.”

Tom shifted so as to look into her face. His eyes were big and his mouth slightly open. She looked at him through her lashes, and then down again, and continued. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while now. But then something made me make the decision.” She bit her lip and looked down again.

“You….” She heard a sharp intake of breath, but continued nonetheless. “Can I raise horses with you?”

She finally gathered the courage to look at him again. His face was a picture of incredulous joy, his eyes wet. He grabbed her and hugged her tightly to him, his head on top of hers.

“Yes.” He whispered reverently, his voice breaking slightly. “Yes, you can raise horses with me.”

~END~


End file.
